


Talking in Your Sleep

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim gets the upper hand. Sometimes. Slash, unless you think Jim's just poking fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking in Your Sleep

## Talking in Your Sleep

#### by GinaLin

  
Don't own them. Just play with them. Some rich executive types with more money than God own them. No need to sue little ol' me for just messing with them a little.   
Thanks to my friends at LiveJournal's Sentinel Thursday Challenge.  
Rated for language and innuendo. Sorry, no squirty bits in this one. Maybe later.  
This story is a sequel to: N/A

* * *

Title: Talking in Your Sleep   
Author: GinaLin  
Series: The Sentinel  
Genre: Humor  
Pairing: J/B  
Warnings: Language, sexual innuendo, pre-slashy, or gen. You decide. Rating: Pg-13  
Archived:  
Summary: Jim lets Blair know he has the upper hand. Sometimes. 

Written for <http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=sentinel_thurshttp://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=sentinel_thurssentinel_thurs> challenge "Dreams" 

Talking in Your Sleep 

"Must have been some dream you had last night, Chief." A smirk across the breakfast table was answered with a jaw-cracking yawn. 

"I don't remember, man. Most people don't remember what they dream about, you know." Blair shuffled to the coffee maker and poured a cup, sniffing the fragrant brew as though he could absorb the caffeine through his olfactory sense alone. "Just bits and pieces. Or if they wake up." 

"You were sure talking up a storm." Another smirk came from behind the open newspaper. 

"I'll have you know that sleep talking occurs during non-dreaming sleep. That's why it rarely has much to do with what a person is dreaming about." 

"Hm, really." Jim commented in a carefully cultivated tone of disinterest. Even half asleep, Blair could spout more information than Mr. Wizard on crack, so he rarely encouraged the tendency unless he was in the mood to be "enlightened". 

Blair sipped coffee. "Actually, REM sleep, or dreaming sleep, causes the body to become very still, as if you were paralyzed. Probably to keep you from acting out your dream and becoming injured, no doubt. Well, except for sexual arousal. Over half of our dreams are sexual." 

Jim stopped eating eggs and put down his paper. "Is this something I really need to know? And it's probably more like 90% in your case." 

Blair, now awake enough to be interested in a toasted bagel with sun-dried tomatoes and cream cheese, raised his brows. "You never wondered why people dream so much about sex?" he asked, ignoring the barb. 

"Frankly, I rarely remember 'those' kinds of dreams." Jim said, looking down at his paper, but not reading anymore. "Like you said, most people don't remember what they dream about. I certainly don't most of the time." Unless it's about black panthers that keep turning up in strange places, Jim amended to himself. And talking. And morphing into himself and....whomever. Jim shook himself mentally, focusing back on his partner's conversation. 

"Boy, you are repressed if you feel guilty about dream sex." Blair chuckled, around mouthful of bagel, then swallowed. "I mean, it's not like you can help it. Sexual arousal occurs with all REM sleep, anyway, it just increases when you have an erotic dream. Might as well enjoy the free show." He shrugged and grinned impishly. 

"Thank you, Dr. Ruth." Jim said sarcastically, standing up and clearing away the remains of his breakfast. "I'll be sure and enjoy my next horny dream in your honor." 

"So, what did I say?" Blair asked on his way to his room to dress for the day. 

"What, in your sleep?" Jim was putting on his holster over a blue T-shirt. 

"Yeah," Blair raised his voice to be heard behind the double doors, although it was unnecessary. Jim grinned. He enjoyed it when Blair forgot and treated him like a person with normal senses. "What'd I say, man?" 

He came out tucking in a burgundy colored Henley and adjusted the ubiquitous flannel shirt over it, carrying his Nikes. 

"You want it word for word?" Jim asked slyly. 

"Hey, quit messing with me and just give." Blair plopped down on the sofa to put on his shoes. 

"Okay, lets see if I can remember." Jim put his hand on his chin and looked thoughtful for a moment. 

"It was something like, 'Oh, yeah, yeah, that's good, do that again, Rafe. Oh, god, that's so damn hot!'" 

Blair's head shot up, eyes wide. "Oh, god, you're shitting me!" he exclaimed. "I said that? NO FUCKING WAY, man! I'll have you know I've never dreamed about...." He stopped himself as Jim shook his head and held up his hand. 

"I understand, after all, you can't help what you dream about." Jim uttered in a consoling tone. "I mean, might as well enjoy, right?" 

"You're kidding." Blair said flatly. "I said that?" He gave Jim an uncertain look. 

"Don't worry, I'll never tell Rafe." Jim said in a confidential tone, eyes twinkling. "I mean, I'm nothing if not discreet. Just think how easy it would be for me to eavesdrop on everyone. Even you, Chief. But, of course, I'd never do that. I mean, most of the stuff people say is boring anyway. Just noise." He waved a hand airily. 

"I've said it before, but living with you has definite disadvantages." Blair grumbled, tying his shoe. 

"Oh, and living with you doesn't?" Jim asked. "For instance, the chronic abundance of wet towels in the hamper, and food in my fridge that I'm afraid of, not to mention more hair products than a metrosexual in my bathroom? And then there's the washing of my whites with a pair of red wool socks, which caused some of my underwear to be dyed a lovely, delicate shade of pink." Jim's voice hardened at the last, as he fixed Blair with a glare that would peel the hide off an elephant. 

"I didn't say any of that, did I?" Blair asked, suddenly, eyes narrowing then rounding again. 

"Nope." A broad smile graced Jim's face. "Well, you were getting cozy with someone in the land of Nod, but it wasn't Rafe." 

"You suck." Blair stood up rapidly and thrust out his chin at the taller man, arms folded. 

"Probably much better than Rafe." 

Jim ducked as a couch pillow was hurled at his head. 

The End 

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End Talking in Your Sleep by GinaLin: mindmelda@yahoo.com  
Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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